


In My Dreams I'm Christmas With You

by thoughtlessblogger



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtlessblogger/pseuds/thoughtlessblogger
Summary: “I stole a baby,” Niall says calmly.
“Okay, first of all, Niall, that's not a baby. I'd say toddler,” Louis corrects before he truly processes what Niall's said. 
When Niall frowns at him, it hits him, then, the severity of the situation. 
Niall has stolen a child.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PumpkinspiceLou (CatyDreamDwyer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatyDreamDwyer/gifts).



> I choose to go with your Single Parent prompt.
> 
> I hope this is what you were looking for! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“I need help,” Niall spits as he rushes through the door. “I need _your_ help, _now_.”

Louis doesn't look up from where he's bent over his laptop, typing away at his newest project. Niall barging in like this is nothing new. In fact, he often barges in with his mediocre problems, demanding Louis' help when, most of the time, Louis' no help at all. This is no different, no matter how urgent his tone is. 

Louis is on a deadline and he would very much like to not miss it and lose his job. Niall can wait.

“Louis,” Niall all but whines. “I'm not exaggerating this time when I say it. I need your help.”

“Is this like the time when you killed Liam's house plant and-.”

He's cut off, which isn't unusual around Niall – he has a tendency to not be able to keep his mouth shut – but what is unusual is that it wasn't Niall that interrupted him. Rather a high-pitched shrieking one would usually associate with a small child.

That's, ultimately, what gets his attention.

When he looks up, Niall's standing directly in front of him on the other side of the coffee-table, clothes wrinkled and haphazard. His hair is sticking up in every direction and there's a weird, glossy, sheen to the side of his face. In his arm is a child.

The kid has it's head buried in Niall's shoulder, one of it's hands gripping Niall's hair. Niall's free hand is wrapped tight around the strap of an opened bag. Louis can't see into from this angle, but he's sure whatever's in it belongs to the kid.

Slowly, Louis saves his project, shuts his laptop and sets it beside him on the sofa before blinking up at Niall, who's face is so pinched it looks painful.

“I stole a baby,” he says calmly.

“Okay, first of all, Niall, that's not a baby. I'd say toddler,” Louis corrects before he truly processes what Niall's said. 

When Niall frowns at him, it hits him, then, the severity of the situation. 

Niall has stolen a child. 

Why? Louis has no idea and it's definitely way out of the usual for Niall. He may do a lot of stupid things, but it's never been this stupid. He's certainly never risked jail time before or risked Louis being nailed as an accomplice. Unknowingly, at least. 

Wait. Actually, because Louis knows the child was stolen, does that mean he'd be a knowing accomplice? Is that even a thing. 

He's going to prison.

The kid squeals, shifting in Niall's arms.

“You stole a child?” he demands.

“Well,” Niall squeaks. “Stole is a harsh word, but, in a sense, yes.”

“In a sense? What the hell is wrong with you? You stole a child! And then brought it to me! What makes you think I'm the one to go to?”

“You know how to handle children,” Niall answers, as the kid turns in his arms. “And I needed-.”

“I know how to handle children!” Louis repeats, rolling his eyes. “What the hell does that-. Wait. Is that Emma?”

The child Niall's holding fully turns and Louis' eyes meet bright green ones. Brown curls frame the girl's face. Louis sighs internally, relaxing because it seems this may not be as bad as he'd originally thought.

Niall's brow furrows. “Of course it is,” he says, his voice a tad defensive. “Who else would it be?”

“Oh dear god,” Louis mutters, pushing himself off the sofa and around the coffee-table.

He reaches out for Emma. Niall re-angles his body, leaning toward him with Emma. When she sees him, her face lights up and she sticks her arms out, grabbing at him.

“Lou!” she screams into Niall's ear.

He jerks his head away from her, face scrunching up. “No screamin', remember?” Niall mumbles, pulling his head further away from her.

Emma doesn't look phased as she continues making grabby hands at him.

“Give me her, will you?” Louis says as he wraps a hand around her tiny waist. “Hand her over.”

Niall does so without any argument. When she's fully in Louis' arms, Niall drops the bag on the ground, takes a step to the side and falls back into an armchair. 

He sighs, resting his head on the back of the chair and throwing an arm across his face. Louis frowns down at him before taking Emma's hand and making faces at her. She giggles and then forcefully grabs his hair.

“Ow,” he mumbles, grabbing her hand and gingerly making making her loosen her grip. 

“That hurts, doesn't it?” Niall says, voice muffled. 

Louis shoots him a look, but realizes Niall can't see it. “Why do you have Emma? And why did you say you stole her?”

“Me!”

“Yes, that's you,” Louis directs at her, tickling her a side a tad. She squirms in his grip, pulling his hair even more, so he stops, turning his attention back to Niall and sighing. “Does Harry know you have her?” he asks quieter.

Groaning, Niall takes the arm away from his face and sits straighter. 

“Let me guess, that's why you said you stole a baby?” Louis asks, crouching to let Emma down. She seems reluctant to go – she loves when Louis holds her – but she does, wobbling over to the corner where Louis keeps toys for her. 

He watches as she plops down in the center, grabbing a puzzle of all things. Satisfied that Niall hasn't caused her any emotional or mental damage, he turns back to Niall.

“What the fuck is going on, Niall?” he hisses.

“Language, Lou!” Emma chastises from the corner.

“Yeah, language, Lou,” Niall grins. “Better be glad Harry's not around or he'd enforce the swear jar.”

“Where is Harold?” 

Niall takes a deep breath, leaning forward. “He's working, you know, like he does,” he shrugs. “He called me this morning asking if I could take Emma her Mr. Buggies because she forgot it and he didn't have time to go back to the flat and take it to the daycare. So that's what I did.”

“I'm failing to see the connection here,” Louis says, motioning over at her as he sits back down on the sofa. “And why didn't he ask me? I could've done it. Lord knows I'm better with her than you are.”

“Yes, yes,” Niall sighs, waving a hand. “We all know how you feel about Harry and his kid. Shut up.”

Louis' frowns, eyes narrowing. He starts to argue that he doesn't feel anything more than friendly for Harry and his kid, but Niall goes on. 

“He knew you have a deadline for this project and didn't want to disturb you because he knew you put it off until the last minute. And don't lie. We know you. Anyway, I get to the daycare – by the way, I really think Harry should look into hiring a nanny. He could afford it. But I get there and give Mr. Buggies to Emma and I notice all the kids are watching a film.”

“What's wrong with that?” Louis questions.

“At first I thought it was a nice Christmasy thing because I saw snow and a decorated tree, but then I realized it was the Grinch thing.”

Niall pauses and when it becomes clear to Louis that he's not going to continue and that he's clearly missing something he prompts, “And that was bad because?”

“It wasn't the cute little cartoon Grinch,” Niall tells him. “It was the Jim Carrey Grinch.”

“Again I ask, that was bad because?”

“Because!” Niall exclaims, throwing his arms up. “That film was god-fucking-awful _and_ they're little kids. They don't need to be watching that.”

Louis fishmouths for a second, trying to figure out Niall's reasoning for this. The film wasn't that bad. In his opinion anyway. And it is was a children's film, although, he wouldn't say it was necessarily for toddlers.

“I know it's still technically a kid's film,” Niall continues. “But Emma didn't seem that happy, so I asked her why and she said the film was scaring her.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Louis asks, “She was scared?” Niall nods. “By Jim Carry? Jim Carry in a fuzzy, green costume?”

“Yes.”

“And you...”

“Took her.”

“You took her,” Louis states. “And Harry doesn't know?”

“No.”

“Did you by any chance tell the daycare you were taking her?”

Niall bites his lip. “I told _an_ adult. I just don't know if it was the _right_ adult.”

“You're an idiot.”

“I know,” Niall agrees, slumping back into the chair.

Sighing, Louis takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his thread with Harry. **The fucking leprechaun stole your child from daycare today. She's safe at mine. Leprechaun may not be** , he types, hoping that gets enough of the story to Harry to bypass any panic on his part.

He glances at Emma, who's still working happily on putting the puzzle together, and decides to take a quick picture and send it to Harry as proof. When he's done, he locks his phone and grabs his laptop.

He has a deadline after all. Harry's child and Niall will not make him miss it.

Sometime between Louis finishing his work and Niall and Emma demanding food, Harry texts back with a knife and the Santa emoji.

Louis' not sure why Harry included the Santa, but figures he might have meant he won't be getting Niall a present this year. But even if he did mean that, Louis knows Harry well enough to know he'd still do it – most likely already bought Niall's present.

He sends back the dancing lady for no particular reason and gets back to work.

**

Niall tried to leave multiple times to avoid whatever wrath Harry would bring down on him, but Louis was unwavering in making him stay. He did a stupid thing and he deserved to deal with the consequences. Besides, Louis needs the buffer between him and Harry.

It's a lie he's telling himself. Except not really.

Since they've known each other he and Harry have been quite close. Their friendship was _easy_ and, up until Louis' revelation, relatively stress free. Now Louis' stressed out every time he's around Harry, wondering if he seems too flirty or not interested enough. It gets worse when he's _alone_ with Harry, which is too be expected. Although, he is hardly ever alone with him anymore thanks to Emma.

Harry doesn't realize what Louis' going through every time they're around each other. He probably has no idea anything is up at all. He's always been a bit clueless to the world around him, but he got worse once Emma came into the picture because now he had someone else to focus on in addition to himself.

Not that Harry is self-involved or careless when it comes to others. He's the opposite, really. He loves people, genuinely cares for them, but he's not great at reading people's moods or the hidden meanings behind people's words and actions. It's probably his only flaw. Well, that and how stubborn he can be.

Louis and most everyone in Harry's life had thought he'd get better at that since he'd have to deal with Emma, who couldn't communicate with words, but, unfortunately, whatever he gained in his ability strictly only works for Emma, which is probably for the best considering Harry is her father and she has no one else in her life (Which is sort of untrue. She has Anne, Gemma, Des, and Robin. Not to mention Niall and Liam. And Louis, of course. She did spend almost as much time with Louis in her first couple of months as she did with Harry. But Harry is her only _parent_.)

Basically, the stress in their relationship is one-sided and Harry has absolutely no clue. For the most part Louis likes it that way. He doesn't want to change the way things are because most of the time it's pretty damn good, but every once in a while the stress of hiding how he feels is almost too much and he's nearly blurted it out on more than one occasion.

There's a couple things Louis could do about it. Well, there's really only one thing he could do, but he refuses, no matter how much Niall pesters him about it. He and Harry are friends first and foremost. If Louis told Harry how he really felt it would make things weird.

Louis doesn't like weird.

Not when it comes to relationships at least. Harry's weird. And he likes Harry quite a bit. He likes weirdness the appropriate amount. Not that there's an appropriate amount to like weirdness. And there are varying degrees of weird. There's bad weird like creepy people who'd probably tie him up in their basement and do god knows what to him. And then there's good weird like Harry. Harry's wonderful. Harry's weird in the perfect way. Louis likes Harry's weirdness.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Louis startles, slamming his laptop shut as Harry strides into the room, the door shutting behind him. Niall, who'd been napping on the sofa next to Louis, jumps up, eyes wide and scanning the room. When he sees Harry he leaps over the sofa and takes off.

“You're going to get stuck in the kitchen, mate,” Louis calls after him. “There's no way out. And there's knives in there.”

“Daddy!” Emma squeals, making grabby hands at Harry as he passes.

Harry pauses, crouching down. His features soften as Emma immediately latches onto him and launches into a story about the puzzle she'd done. 

“Sweetie, I know you're excited,” Harry starts, voice steady. It really does amaze Louis sometimes how Harry can change his demeanor as quick as he does when Emma comes into the situation. “But I really need you to stay with Uncle Lou for a minute. Can you do that?”

Emma steps away from him, nodding.

“Good, thank you.” Harry straightens up, turning to Louis. “I have to deal with Uncle Niall now,” he mutters, face darkening slightly.

“If you make a mess in my kitchen please clean it,” Louis quips.

Harry cocks an eyebrow as he passes, but it's all Louis gets before being left alone with Emma.

She waddles over to him and pulls herself up into his lap. He tries to pay attention to what she's saying, he really does, but sometimes it's hard to listen to a three-year-old tell stories that have no beginning, middle or end. 

Besides if he pays real close attention every now and then he can hear Niall or Harry's words floating in from the kitchen. Apparently, Louis texted Harry while Harry was on the phone with the daycare about his missing child. A few seconds sooner and Louis could've saved Harry a heart attack.

Eventually, with Emma having gotten bored with him and going back to her corner of toys, Harry's anger laced words fade completely and Niall scurries out of the kitchen, offering Louis and Emma a quick “good-bye” before disappearing out of the flat.

It's a few minutes later when Harry drops down on the sofa beside him, propping his feet on the coffee-table, while sipping a beer. Louis stays quiet, lets Harry calm down because trying to hold a conversation with him when he's angry is a bad idea and something even Emma has seemed to have learned.

Harry takes another sip of his beer, sets it on the side table and sighs, dropping his head back. “What in the ever loving hell was he thinking?”

Louis shifts, setting his laptop on the table in front of them. He watches Harry for a moment, tracing the sharp lines of his face. “In his defense,” he starts, “he really thought he was helping Emma.” Harry rolls his head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. “I know,” Louis agrees, holding his hands up in defense. “But you know how little experience he has with children and all. He tries.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry moves to stare up at the ceiling again. “I should've had you take her Mr. Buggies.”

“Why didn't you?” Louis asks hesitantly. It's something Louis' done a hundred times before, not to mention all the other things he's done to help out. He'd think by now Harry would know that he could come to him for anything. 

“You already do so much,” Harry breathes out. “Like, from day one you've been there, helping me and taking care of Emma. I appreciate it so much. You'll never understand how much I do. But you have your own life and I don't want to be a bother.”

What he's saying is ridiculous, but it makes him feel warm and cold at the same time and he doesn't know why. It's a strange feeling and instead of investigating it, he scoffs shuffling around to mirror Harry's position. “I love Emma and I told you the day you brought her home I'd do whatever I could to help out.”

“I know,” Harry sighs. “And like I said I appreciate it, but sometimes I get this feeling that you're only doing it as like... an obligation because I don't really see how you'd want to spend your free time with me and my toddler.”

A pang of _something_ shoots through Louis and he doesn't know what hurts more. The fact that Harry thinks Louis' doing this as an obligation to their friendship, doubts Louis' sincerity, or because Harry doesn't realize the whole truth. It's probably a combination of both of those if Louis wants to be honest, but like most things when it comes to Harry he lies to himself and to Harry.

“You really need to get over that,” he says. “I keep telling you it's not a problem and I don't think of it like an obligation or whatever. Trust me, Harold, if I didn't want to do this stuff for you and Emma I wouldn't. There's really nothing keeping me here other than the fact that I want to be.”

He feels Harry shift to look at him, _feels_ Harry's gaze boring into the side of his face, but he refuses to look. “Believe me,” he continues, “if I didn't love the two of you I would've been gone a long time ago.”

“Louis,” Harry says softly. “I know you-.”

“You don't really know anything, Harry,” Louis says, turning to him. “So stop trying to pretend.”

Blinking, Harry cocks his head. “I know a lot of things actually, but okay. Fine”

Louis hums, but doesn't offer anything else. It must frustrate Harry because he huffs out a breath and stands. “Okay Emma, get your stuff together and say good-bye to Uncle Lou.”

There's some murmuring from Emma that Louis doesn't pay much attention to. He squeezes his eyes shut as Harry looms over him. “One of these days, Louis, you're going to realize I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do. I just hope it's not too late.”

With that he walks away. 

Louis doesn't open his eyes until Emma crawls into his lap to say good-bye. He doesn't dare look at Harry and even after Harry and Emma are gone and he's left alone in his flat he doesn't let himself think about what Harry meant.

**

“So you're family has decided to go to the Bahamas for Christmas?” Harry asks, shuffling around his kitchen.

“Yes.”

“Which also happens to be your birthday?”

“Yes,” Louis draws out, pursing his lips.

Harry stops rummaging around in his fridge and turns, staring at him with a furrowed brow. “And you said no to going with them?”

“Yes.”

He fish-mouths for a moment before questioning, “Why?”

“Because it'll be warm and that's not my idea of a Christmas, Harry.”

“You're an idiot,” Harry states. 

Louis drops his head to the table, mumbling, “I know.”

He hears Harry sigh as he moves across the room. A chair scrapes across the floor. “You still have time to change your mind.”

He does his best to shrug from his hunched over position. “Don't wanna.”

“You're acting like a child,” Harry tells him. Louis doesn't miss the tone of amusement. “Seriously, it's like I'm dealing with an older, hairier version of Emma.”

Sitting up, Louis shoots him an unimpressed look, then lets his head fall back to the table with a thud. “Where is Emma, anyway?”

“Liam's taken her to some museum or gallery or...I'm not entirely sure, but he said it would be an educational experience and I couldn't say no to that.”

“This is why I'm the fun uncle.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry agrees. “But let's not change the subject. Do you honestly want to be alone on your birthday and Christmas?”

He sits up, propping his elbow on the table and leaning his head on his hand. “I won't be alone. I'll have my dog.”

“You don't have a dog, Louis.”

“I'll get one.”

“Your building doesn't allow dogs.”

“A cat maybe.”

Harry sighs, slumping back in his chair. “Don't be difficult.”

“I'm not being difficult,” Louis nearly shrieks. “You're the one that won't let me get a pet.”

“Louis.”

“Harold.”

Sighing again, Harry says, “See, a child. I honestly don't know why I'm friends with y-.” Harry cuts off, sitting up straight and staring off to the side. “You know what,” he starts, looking back toward Louis. “Mum and Robin are going to be in France for the holidays and Gemma's going to Andrew's parents.”

“Still don't like him,” Louis interjects.

“Me either, but that's not the point.”

“Then what is it?”

Harry shoots him a look, but cheerily says, “My point is, it was just going to be me and Emma for Christmas, but if you're going to be stubborn and not spend Christmas with your family you can spend it with us.”

Louis straightens, narrowing his eyes. “Is this some sort of trick?”

“What?”

“Is this some sort of trick?” he repeats. “Is this your way of tricking me into partaking in your weird family traditions? Are you actually going to make me go caroling?” 

Harry throws his head back in laughter. “I'm being serious, Harry. You know I hate that. I did it once and that's going to be the only time.”

“Caroling isn't a weird tradition, but if it'll keep you from being alone on your birthday and Christmas then no, I won't make you do it.”

He narrows his eyes again, watching for any of Harry's tells, but it doesn't seem like he's lying. Still, he says no and he says no again mostly just to aggravate Harry.

But when Liam shows up with Emma and Harry tells her that he's going to spend Christmas with them and she lights up in an excitement, he knows he's lost this one.

**

“Can we put this on the tree?” Emma questions. When Louis doesn't immediately answer her, she grabs at his shirt and pulls. “Uncle Lou, can we put this on the tree?”

Louis stops trying to untangle the fairy lights he's been fighting with for what seems like an hour, letting them limply dangle in his hands as he looks down at her. “Uh, Emma, I'm not sure about that,” he says when he spots the stuffed duck in her hands. “It's a bit big, innit it?”

She glances between him and the duck a couple of times before with a furrowed brow settling back on him. “I don't think so.”

Frowning, he sets the lights down, having to shake his hand a bit to get them to come loose of his hand completely. “Emma, the duck doesn't belong on the tree.”

“Why not?”

“Because it-. Well, it-.” He cuts off, crouching in front of her. “It's not a Christmas duck,” he says, hoping she'll accept it.

“Yes it is.”

He shakes his head. “No it isn't.”

Emma looks down at the duck in her hands, examining it. “What if he wants to be?” she asks, looking back up at him.

And that is something Louis can't answer, but he knows Harry and knows Harry likes his tree to look a certain way for aesthetic reasons. He won't be happy if he comes in and sees a giant, yellow duck on there. But at the same time Louis doesn't really want to say no to Emma because after all what if the duck wants to be a Christmas duck?

“Okay, well, how about we put him on there and we see how he does,” he offers. “Does that sound okay to you?”

Emma nods, scurrying over to the tree to inspect it for a spot. Louis stands, his knee cracking as he does, and follows her. 

“How 'bout here?” Emma asks, already trying to set the duck on branches between things that have already been precariously placed by Harry. 

“Yeah, it's fine with me,” Louis answers, helping her place the duck. 

Once he's sure the duck will stay, he takes a step back to inspect his work. It doesn't look terrible exactly, but he knows Harry's not going to be happy.

“Thank you, Louis,” Emma says and she skips away.

“Yeah, your father's not going to be happy,” he mutters, turning around to go back to the lights, but he freezes when he sees Harry leaning in the doorway with an amused smirk. “I couldn't say no,” he shrugs in defeat.

Grinning fully, Harry pushes away from the door frame. “It's not terrible.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “Sure.”

“It's not,” Harry shrugs.

“How badly do you want to remove it?”

The smile slips from Harry's face quickly. “It's killing me.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “You don't say?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “But this is something I've had to get used to having a kid.”

“Yeah,” Louis draws out. “You've done such a good job of it.”

“I have!” Harry nearly screeches. 

“Last New Year's,” Louis says.

At the reminder, Harry blanches. “You don't have orange candles for New Year's. And thanks for betraying me and helping my child ruin the tree.”

“It's not ruined,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes again and grabbing the lights. “And Emma's happiness means more to me than your obsessive need to have things a certain way for aesthetic reasons,” he adds. Looking back up, he says, “Sorry, darling.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Normally, I'd be filled with joy to hear that because Emma's happiness is everything, but _Louis_ ,” he whines. “You're my friend.”

“Get over it, Harold.”

“I'll call Liam. He'll understand,” Harry retorts.

“Listen, you're just weird, but Liam is anal about things. It's more annoying with him. I'll kill him.”

“So are you saying you like me better than Liam?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“It's nice to hear sometimes,” Harry says, looking down.

Louis purses his lips. “Of course I like you better, Harry.”

Harry looks back up, smiling. “Good.”

Without another word, he turns and goes back to the kitchen.

“Bring me some hot coco,” Louis calls.

Louis grins when he hears Emma yell from the other side of the flat in agreement. Maybe being there for Christmas won't be too bad.

**

“Are you sure you don't want one?” Harry calls from the kitchen.

Niall, who's lounging on the sofa with Emma curled into his side, parts his lips to respond, but Louis cuts him him. 

“He's off the beer, remember?” he yells over his shoulder. “His stomach is too delicate!”

Liam covers his mouth as he snickers from the floor and Niall shoots him a look before turning to Louis and sticking his tongue out.

“Real mature, Neil.”

“It's called acid reflux, _Lewis_ ,” Niall retorts as Harry walks in. “And if you had to deal with it everyone in England would here you whining.”

“He's got a point,” Harry agrees, handing a bottle of beer to Liam as he passes by. “You cry over a paper-cut.”

Scoffing, Louis quirks an eyebrow. “I do not.”

“You do, uncle Lou,” Emma mumbles, rubbing her eyes. 

“I do not,” he argues.

Emma fixes him with a more tired version of the look Louis had given Harry, then focuses her attention to Louis' finger that's wrapped up in a pink plaster. He pulls his hand out of sight and narrows his eyes. 

“I don't know what you're talking about, Emma.”

She looks unamused and ignores him, turning to Harry, who's fussing with a strand of lights on the tree. “Daddy, when's Santa coming?”

“When you're sleeping,” Harry answers, giving up on the lights. 

“But I was just sleeping,” she whines, climbing off the sofa and stumbling over to the tree. “He didn't come.”

Harry stares down at her, at an obvious loss for an explanation. 

“She's got you there, mate,” Liam says, pushing up from the floor as Harry lifts Emma into his arms. “Listen, lads, I'd love to stay, but I gotta be home by morning or mum'll kill me.”

“Karen wouldn't kill you,” Niall sighs. “Yell and cry maybe, but not kill you.”

“And if she did kill you, you know she'd en up crying,” Louis adds.

Liam shoots him a glare, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. “I still need to go.”

“I think I'll go too,” Niall yawns, stretching. “I'm exhausted,” he mutters, standing and crossing the room to Liam.

“From what?” Harry questions before Louis gets the chance.

“I hate you both,” Niall says, grabbing his coat.

Liam chuckles, shaking his head. “Good to know you've got that Christmas cheer.”

“I've got Christmas cheer!” Niall screeches. “I sat here and listened to Harry read The Night Before Christmas for the eight hundredth time! And then I endured Louis singing Christmas songs purposely off-key!”

“I was doing that because Emma liked it,” Louis mumbles, crossing his arms.

“I think someone's tired,” Liam says, putting his arm around Niall's shoulder and steering him toward the door. “Happy birthday, Louis.”

When Niall doesn't say anything, Liam elbows him in the side. “Yeah, yeah. Happy birthday to Louis and happy Christmas and all.”

Liam shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Have fun in the morning, Emma!” he calls as him and Niall leave the flat.

When the door shuts with a soft thud, Louis turns his attention to Harry and Emma. “Is she asleep?” he asks. She's got her head buried in his neck and is unusually still.

Harry looks down at her, smiles and then nods. “Yeah. I'm gonna go get her bed.”

Without another word, he's out of the room.

After several minutes of watching the lights on the tree twinkle and gazing in amazement when he notices the duck is still there – maybe Harry has gotten better about that sort of thing – he stands, his back popping, and starts tidying up the mess from earlier.

He'd gotten his birthday gifts. His favorite being the picture Emma drew for him of the two of them together. It didn't much look like anything, but he loves it nonetheless. And then they'd had a nice dinner consisting of homemade pizza and beer – water in Emma and Niall's cases.

It's amazing how much of a mess that left.

“Just leave it,” he hears Harry say from behind him when he starts to reach for some birthday wrapping paper. 

“It's not a problem.”

“It's your birthday,” Harry says, shuffling further into the room. “Besides, it'll be worse in the morning once Emma gets her gifts.”

“That's very true,” he agrees, letting the wrapping he'd already picked up fall back to the ground. Glancing around, he adds, “We could at least get the plates and things, though. That'll drive you up the wall.”

Harry hums, grabbing the bottles Liam left on the floor. “How come you never care about cleaning your place?” he asks, gathering the dirty plates.

“I do,” Louis defends, straightening up from where he was picking the wrapping paper back up. “I just leave the mess for a few days.”

“My point still stands,” Harry comments on his way out of the room.

Louis follows after him, grabbing a stray bottle off the side table that Harry left. “The difference is, this is your place and I know mess bothers the hell out of you,” he says as he enters the kitchen.

Harry's already displaced of the bottles and has already started cleaning the plates. “I'm not as bad as I used to be.”

Louis stops in the middle of the room and shoots a disbelieving look at the back of Harry's head. He's letting his hair grow out again now that Emma's less inclined to pull it and the hair at the back of his neck is starting to curl.

“Don't give me that look,” Harry chastises without turning around. “You know I'm right. Having Emma has made me have to let some things go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis snorts, walking over to the table and dropping the wrapping paper and bottle on it. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Across the room, Harry sighs. “Could you do me a favor? Check and make sure Emma is actually asleep and then go into my room. I have her gifts hidden in the wardrobe and under my bed. Pull them out and set them by the sofa. There's a few more I need to wrap.”

When Louis stays silent, Harry glances over his shoulder. “Please?” he asks with a toothy smile.

“I hate you,” Louis tells him as he leaves the room.

**

The only light in the room is coming from the tree and a tiny lamp beside the sofa, which Louis thinks is ridiculous, but Harry swears that if Emma wakes up and comes in she won't be able to see much with very little lighting. Therefore, she won't know that Harry is wrapping her Santa gifts and whatever else she could possibly determine from that. Louis doesn't think Emma's quite that smart yet, but Harry was insistent.

There's a soft murmur of Christmas music coming from Harry's phone across the room and some American Christmas cartoon that he found on YouTube playing on his laptop sitting on the coffee-table. Scattered around them are wrapped and unwrapped gifts.

When Harry said he still needed to wrap a few he was drastically under exaggerating. He hadn't wrapped a single one and pulled Louis into wrapping half, which was probably a mistake because Louis' wrapping is much different than Harry's, but Harry promised him Emma wouldn't notice. 

It's well past midnight – no longer Louis' birthday – and Harry's taking a break, sipping on wine while he leans back on the sofa. Louis on the other hand is reaching for a gigantic box off to the side. When he grabs it, he sets it in front of him and chooses the reindeer wrapping paper.

“Sorry if your birthday was boring.”

Louis pauses, turning to look at Harry. He's got his head rested on the sofa cushion, staring up at the ceiling, his wine sitting beside him on the floor. “What _are_ you talking about?” Louis questions, brow furrowing.

“I'm apologizing for if your birthday was boring,” Harry reiterates without looking at him.

Louis studies him a moment, wondering if this is some sort of set-up for a joke, but when it becomes apparent that Harry's being serious, he sighs, setting the wrapping paper back down and shifting his body toward Harry.

“It wasn't boring, Harry,” he says carefully, scared of setting Harry off. For some reason, Harry has a tendency to get a little depressed around the holidays, something Louis' never gotten an answer too. Emma made it better for him, but, apparently, late at night when he's drinking wine on the floor, he tends to get a bit morose still. “Trust me, if it were boring you would have heard me complaining.”

“Emma does pick up her dramatic tendencies from you,” Harry hums.

“Sure,” he agrees, though he actually doesn't. He does spend enough time around Emma for her to pick up some his behavior, but her dramatics come from Harry. He's the truly dramatic one out of the three of them. “But, seriously, Harry, this was probably one of the best birthdays I've ever had.”

Harry turns his head toward him. “Really?” 

He says it so quietly that Louis nearly misses it, but he does catch it. “Of course, Harold,” he replies. “Spending my birthday with you and Emma was the best thing. And, of course, Liam and Neil.”

“He's going to kill you one day for calling him that,” Harry grins.

“He'll get over it.”

Harry's grin fades slowly and he turns his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Are you sure you had fun?”

“Yes, Harry. It was amazing. Stop worrying,” he says. “Now,” he adds, patting Harry's thigh. “Get back to work. We've still got like twenty gifts to wrap.” He glances around the pile of gifts surrounding them and asks, “How many things does one child need?”

“Well, like you, she deserves everything,” Harry says honestly, sitting up straight and grabbing a small toy.

Louis freezes, watching Harry go about wrapping the toy like he didn't just say that. In retrospect it probably isn't that big of a deal, a throwaway comment that Harry didn't mean anything by or a joke, but it still gets to Louis. 

He's been under the belief that Emma _and_ Harry deserve the world for some time. To hear Harry say something like that about him with, possibly, no real meaning behind it hurts a bit. But, then again, Harry has always been weird when it comes to their friendship. Before Emma he would often say that sort of thing about Louis, but he'd never put much stock in it. Maybe this is just a continuance of that. 

“Come on, Louis,” Harry says, glancing over at him and breaking him out of his thoughts. “The gifts won't wrap themselves.”

Clearing his throat, Louis nods and turns back to the box. Apparently, they aren't going to acknowledge what Harry just said or the meaning behind it. Louis can handle that. He ignores a lot when it comes to Harry. He can ignore this too.

He grabs the wrapping paper again, looking down at the box and freezes again. “Harold, what in the world is this?”

Looking over, Harry says, “Oh, that's a telescope,” he says cheerily.

“Uh-huh,” Louis draws out, staring down in disbelief. “I know that, but why did you get this for your child?”

“Oh, well, remember how Liam took her to a museum?” 

“Yeah.”

“Turns out it was actually the planetarium and she absolutely loved it, so I figured she'd like this.”

Louis hums. “Well, okay. Whatever brings her joy I guess,” he says. Then under his breath, he adds, “Kid's gonna be a nerd and I won't be to blame for it.”

Harry must've heard because he laughs softly and playfully smacks Louis' arm. “Shut up. She can be whatever she wants to be and if a nerd is what she chooses, so be it.”

“I'm just saying I won't be responsible.”

“We'll blame Liam.”

“Let's just blame him for every thing.”

“I already do.”

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, the only sounds coming from the cartoon, music and the wrapping.

Louis' not sure how much time passes between then and him finishing the last gift, but the cartoon is over, Harry's wine glass is empty and they've not spoken in quite some time.

“Well, that's the last one,” he says, adding the small box to the pile of finished gifts.

“You know,” Harry starts, “I always kind of thought that if I was going to have a child it would have been with you,” he admits.

Louis fumbles the box, nearly dropping it to the floor and knocking over the pile, but he manages to keep a hold of it despite the panic coursing through his body. 

There's no way Harry knows. There can't be. Louis may be obvious about it at times, according to Liam and Niall and even his mum, but Harry's the most oblivious person Louis knows. There's absolutely no way he knows Louis' actually in love with him.

And on the off chance that he does know, why in the hell would he be bringing it up? Surely to god this isn't some sort of joke because if Harry would actually joke about this he's not the person Louis knows he is. He'd be forced to move out of the country out of embarrassment and possibly because he's on the run for killing Harry out of rage for this.

He shakes his head at himself for over reacting. Even if Harry did know he wouldn't joke about it. That's not the kind of person he is and Louis _knows_ that. 

Really, the only logical explanation is that Harry is actually joking, but not because he knows how Louis feels. Louis doesn't know why Harry would make the joke at all, but that's the only thing it could be.

To keep himself from imploding, he grabs a couple of the wrapped gifts and turns toward the tree. Harry's already there, crouched down and carefully placing gifts under it, like he didn't just send Louis into a spiral of panic.

“One could make the argument that _I'm_ actually a child,” he says, walking over to the tree and praying to any god he can think of that this is an appropriate way to respond. “So maybe I shouldn't have any.”

“Oh, shut up, Louis,” Harry sighs. “You've been absolutely amazing with Emma.”

He stops when he's at the tree and stares at it, not replying to what Harry said. There's a weird feeling in the air that he can't quite place and could possibly be something he's imagining due to the anxiety he's feeling.

“But I was being serious,” Harry continues, still crouched next to Louis and not taking his eyes off of the job he's doing. “I mean, don't get me wrong. I love Emma to death and given the chance I'd do everything the same way because she means the world to me. But so do you.”

“Uh-huh,” Louis agrees automatically when Harry pauses. 

“Now's probably not the best time to bring this up because of Christmas and all, but, then again, I'm not sure there'd ever be a best time.” 

He pauses again, rearranging two of the gifts he's already placed and Louis feels like his body is on fire. “And the wine probably has something to do with it,” he adds, glancing over to his empty glass. “But, Lou, I've been wanting to say something for so long now, but I've been sort of scared too and there's a part of me that knows I shouldn't be because I've got a feeling I know how this is going to end. But my god. I've known you for a very long time now and I don't want to risk losing you because of this.”

It's the quickest he's ever spoken and when he's finished he stands and heads back to the sofa to get more gifts. While he's rummaging around for the ones he wants, Louis realizes he's not moved or spoken in a very long time and still has the boxes in his arms as he stares at the tree.

“Are you going to say something?” Harry asks cautiously.

Louis turns on his heel, staring wide-eyed at Harry. “What in the world are _you_ saying to me, Harry?”

Shrugging, Harry says, “I mean, isn't it obvious?” he questions, not looking at him. “I said I had always thought I'd have kids with you and then-.”

“You went off on some tangent that's skirting around the actual words,” Louis finishes.

“Not exactly what I was going to say, but yeah.”

Louis finally sets the boxes on the floor, nearly getting poked in the eye by a tree branch. “Well, you need to say it, Harry,” he says, turning back to him. “Otherwise I'm not going to be a hundred percent sure what we're talking about.”

Grabbing the gifts he wants, Harry sighs and heads back to the tree. Louis has to turn as Harry passes him. “Yeah, but, Louis, when I say it it'll be out there and there'll be no taking it back.”

“There's really no taking this back now,” Louis points out, crossing his arms.

“Okay, but think for a second,” Harry spits, keeping his voice low and harshly setting the gifts down at his feet and turning to him. “Just _think_ for a second about what I'm saying and I know it may sound stupid, but this is how I feel, so just listen and think.”

Surprised by Harry's little outburst, Louis nods, motioning for him to go on.

“I have Emma to think about. It's not just _me_ ,” Harry starts, running a hard through his hair. “If it were just me I'd have no problem admitting this to you because I'm _so_ fucking sure you feel the same. And sure I am slightly afraid that I'm wrong and it'll ruin our friendship, which would fucking suck because I'd want you in my life no matter what, you know? But it's not just me.”

He pauses, blowing air through his nose, while running his hand through his hair again. “It's _Emma_ , too. God, Louis, she fucking _loves_ you,” he says quietly, but just as urgent. “You've been there since day one and if we fell apart and you were suddenly gone-.” He cuts off, shaking his head. “I'm not sure she could handle that. Beside me, mum and Gemma, _you_ , Liam and Niall are all she has, but I swear to god, Louis, sometimes she likes you better than me. And I'm not going to put her through that.”

It seems Harry's having a tad of a breakdown, which is probably why Louis' as together as he is and why, when Harry spins around and just stares at the tree, he speaks as calmly as he does.

“Okay, valid points, Harry, but listen to _me_ for a second,” he says, stepping beside him and staring at the side of his face. “Aside from you, Emma means more to me than anything in this world. And even if it didn't work out between us I wouldn't just abandon her. Kids don't need that and I'd like to think we could be adult enough to set aside whatever we had going on to keep her from living through that.”

“I guess you're right,” Harry agrees, turning to him for a fraction of a second. When he's facing the tree again, he adds, “But you don't know that.”

“And neither do you,” he points out. “The _point_ is, Harry, you have a kid and you're doing your best to raise her and doing an amazing job at it. And you don't want her to be upset and hurt by something like that, but the fact of the matter is she will eventually have to deal with it. Maybe not with me, but with someone. People come and go and, yes, you should be cautious, but you're allowed to be happy and have things for yourself. You can't do that to yourself and Emma, if she were capable of understanding this, wouldn't want you to.”

There's a lull in the music as the songs change, but he doesn't really notice it, too focused on Harry.

He's still staring at the tree, the lights casting a weird shadow on his face and it looks like he's barely breathing as he does. 

After a while, when it becomes apparent that he's not going to acknowledge what Louis said, he gives up. He sighs, slouching. “Okay, be that way,” he says, stepping around the pile of Emma's gifts. “I think I'm just going to get my stuff and go,” he adds, heading to the corner where his stuff is neatly stacked.

“Louis, wait,” Harry says behind him with a sense of urgency.

“No, Harry,” Louis says, reaching down to grab his coat. “If you can't actually say it, then it's not worth my time.” He gets his arm through on sleeve of the coat, and adds, “I don't want to waste more time on something that won't happen.”

With the arm that's through the coat, he grabs his bag and starts toward the door, while struggling to get his other arm in it's sleeve. He gets it through, but barely, when he hears Harry again.

“Louis, stop,” he says, grabbing his elbow and pulling him around.

Sighing, Louis pulls away, shouldering the bag. “Harry, it's late,” he says, turning back toward the door. “Let's not do this. I'm tir-.”

“I love you,” Harry blurts, causing Louis to freeze with his arm still halfway through the sleeve. “Please don't go,” Harry continues, sounding a bit breathless. “I'm in love with you. You're right. I should've said it. I should've said it a long time ago. I love you, Louis.”

Mechanically, Louis turns around and drops his bag to the floor. “Well, to be fair, I could've said something too.”

“I'm sure you had your reasons,” Harry supports. “But you've still not actually said it,” he adds, taking a couple steps toward him.

“Do I need to?” Louis asks slowly. He doesn't quite feel like this is real. It feels more like a dream that he can't quite place, something he's going to wake up from any moment.

“After the speech you just gave me?” Harry replies, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yes.”

“Ah,” Louis draws out, his hands hanging limply at his side. “Then you should know something. I'm difficult to live with. I'm a hell of a lot messier than you think. I always clean up a bit when I know you're coming because I know you hate the mess. I'm grouchy in the mornings and I put off work until the last minute _because_ I'm a lazy piece of shit and then I'll complain and get mad at other people because of it.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, drawing his eyebrows together. “Okay, first, I know you're grouchy in the mornings, but I also know you'll apologize for it later in the day once you've had your tea and woken up. Secondly, you're actually not that lazy, but, yes, your procrastination is a flaw, but it's something I've been dealing with for as long as I've known you. Thirdly, I know how messy you are. That's not a well kept secret, Lou. I've seen your flat – I've seen you're bedroom. It's terrible, but I can deal with that. And, fourthly-.”

“Fourthly?” Louis question, cocking an eyebrow. “I only said three things, didn't I?”

Harry comes a lot closer, so close Louis can feel his breath hitting his face. “There's a fourth problem,” Harry states. “But I'm going to fix that one.”

“What's the fourth problem?” Louis asks hesitantly.

“There's no mistletoe,” Harry says seriously. “But I'm going to kiss you anyway.”

Louis shrugs. “Well, if you must.”

Harry grins, cupping the back of his neck and leaning in. “I've wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers just before closing the small gap between them.

Louis melts into it, lets Harry wrap his arms around him, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. He takes like wine, but smells like cinnamon and nothing could be better than this. The feeling of having Harry's hands on him and his hands on Harry and their mouths pressing together. 

He goes to deepen the kiss even further, but there's a creaking sound from the other side of the flat and they break apart quickly.

“What was that?” Harry asks quietly.

“No idea,” he answers, shrugging. “Sounded like a floor board, but no one is up and wal-.”

Harry cuts him off, eyes wide. “Shit, was that Emma?”

“Uh,” Louis draws out as Harry starts frantically looking around the room. There are presents an unused wrapping paper scattered every where.

There's another muffled sound and Harry freezes. Under his breath, he says, “You clean this up. Put everything under the tree. I”ll get her back in bed.”

“Okay,” he nods, but as Harry starts out of the room, he realizes something. “Wait, don't you want them put a specific way? You know you'll only complain about-.”

“We don't have time for me to do it,” Harry points out.

“Well, at least your self-aware.”

Grinning over his shoulder, Harry says, “Shut up and we'll continue the other thing later.”

Louis doesn't get a chance to reply before Harry disappears out of the room. He stands there, coat still half on, staring after him for a good ten seconds before he hears Emma actually speaking. Quickly, he shrugs off his coat, tossing it somewhere to his left and gets to work.

**

“Are you sure you actually like that?” Louis asks, leaning around Emma's head to stare down in disgust at the telescope. “You're positive?”

Emma's sitting in his lap, has been all morning as she opens the gifts Harry hands her. “I love it,” she nods, trying to open the box.

“Are you just saying that because you don't want to hurt Santa's feelings?” he questions, glancing over to Harry, who's staring at him with an unimpressed look.

She shakes her head, mumbling something he doesn't catch.

“Do you even know what it is?”

“It lets me see the stars,” she answers. “Like the place uncle Liam took me too.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah, uncle Liam will be taking you to less places.”

“Does that mean I get to go with uncle Niall?” Emma asks cheerfully, squirming in his lap as Harry hands her another present.

“Definitely not,” Harry says sternly. Clearly he's still not over Niall stealing her from daycare. “But I'm sure you won't mind spending more time with uncle Louis.”

At that Emma squeals. 

Smirking, Louis looks to Harry. “Always tried to tell him I was her favorite.”

“Uh, Lou. I'm not sure that's what she was excited about.”

“What?” Louis asks, the smirk slipping off his face. When Harry motions to Emma, he looks down and over her shoulder. She had opened another present – some sort of stuffed thing – and was now clutching it to her chest. “Well, how do you like that?” he mumbles looking back to Harry. “She likes an inanimate object more than me.”

Laughing, Harry scoots over to him, leaning in and whispering, “Sorry, but as the guy that bought these things I'm glad to see she's enjoying them more than you.”

“Just hurts a little, is all,” he grumbles.

“Ah, well, don't worry,” Harry mutters. “I like you more than inanimate objects,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to Louis' temple.

“Yeah, well, your love doesn't mean as much to me as Emma's,” he retorts, causing Harry to gasp.

“Well now, that hurts.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis turns his head to Harry. “Listen, Harold, I love you and this little family-ish holiday thing is great, but if Emma can't learn to appreciate me, then -.”

Harry cuts him off with another quick kiss, but this time it's on his lips. When Harry pulls back, Louis glances down at Emma. The kiss was a bit risky with Emma in Louis' lap, since Harry's decided to wait a bit longer to tell her, not that she'd completely understand, but she's, thankfully, still preoccupied with the toy to notice. 

“It has been very family-ish, hasn't it?”

“Eh,” Louis shrugs. “You forced me into.”

“You've loved this and you know it,” Harry grins.

“Of course,” Louis agrees. “Best Christmas ever and I'm not being sarcastic.”

“I didn't think you were,” Harry tells him, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. “And there's still lots of fun to be had.”

Pulling back completely, Louis narrows his eyes. “I swear on everything that is holy, if you make me go caroling, I will shave your head.”

Harry throws his head back, laughing.

“I'm serious, Haz, don't do it.”

“I promise you, no caroling.”

“Good, cause I'd be forced to-.”

“Daddy!” Emma calls, climbing off Louis' lap as gracefully as she can. “Are there more?”

Quickly, Harry smiles and scoots back toward the tree. “Of course, love, but maybe uncle Louis wants to hand them to you now.”

“Nah, I'm good,” he says, lounging back on the sofa and stretching his legs out. “I'll just sit here and be ignored by the child.”

Emma, who was in the process of grabbing a present from Harry, turns to him with her hands on her hips. She frowns at him. “I'm not ignoring you, uncle Louis.”

“Sure seems like it,” Louis mutters and, at the risk of starting an argument about something a toddler probably won't understand, he adds, “You ignored me when I said you'd rather spend more time with me than uncle Niall.”

Her brow furrows, which under a different circumstance would be a lot cuter and funnier, but right now it just makes Louis feel bad. It's Christmas and he's picking an argument with a toddler. “I spend more time with you, anyway,” she tells him,surprisingly more articulate than normal. “And I love it. I wasn't ignoring you, uncle Lou. I love you.”

Technically, she did still ignore him, but he looks past that as his eyes get a little misty. This is probably the first time she's said that to him and it means more than anything really. It might possibly mean more than when Harry said the same three words the night before.

Over her shoulder, he sees Harry watching with a wide grin. He, too, looks a little teary. Louis would want to smack the grin right off his face if he weren't so emotional.

“I love you, too, Emma,” he replies.

He has the urge to hug her, but he's not going to let this get that emotional, so he stays where he is, watching as she smiles.

“Good,” she says before turning back to Harry. “Now, more.”

“Emma, what did we say about manners?” Harry chastises.

She puffs out a sigh, but says, “More, please?”

Harry laughs, reaching under the tree and grabbing something without looking. He hands it to her and she plops down, immediately tearing into the paper.

“Think this is something you want to deal with on a regular basis?” Harry asks him.

He didn't mean it in a serious way, but when Louis answers it's as heartfelt as possible.

“Absolutely.”


End file.
